I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately. My brain is totally unable to retain any sort of information for more than 5 seconds. Tops. And those of you who know me, or have read this blog for awhile, are probably thinking to yourselves, “What the flip is she talking about? This is nothing new. The girl is a mess.” And you are right. But it has been worse than usual. I am sure that if The Hub were here right now he would totally corroborate my story. Yes, I am always a mess, but the amount of mess that I am at present time is approximately 127.5% messier than the mess I was previously. Did that make sense? I’m not sure. Not a whole lot of stuff really makes sense to me right now. Yet some things make more sense than ever. And I’m pretty sure that statement made no sense at all. This is obviously a downward spiral, so I guess I’ll move on.

Something is totally up. I have been having some of the funniest thoughts that I have ever had, yet I forget them almost instantly. All I can remember is that they were HILARIOUS. But as far as I know, maybe they weren’t. I mean, maybe they were totally stupid and I forgot that part yet I am so narcissistic that I assume that they were comedy gold. That’s totally and completely possible. But since I realize that that is totally and completely possible, doesn’t that mean I am NOT narcissistic? Would a narcissist even think for one millisecond that there was ANY possibility that they were not funny? Also, would a narcissist think that her hair looks like shit 80% of the time and that her nose was way too big for her face? And would a narcissist tell you that one time she accidentally peed on her friend’s couch and another time while she was having a really heavy period and a really bad cold at the same time, she totally sneezed her tampon out? I seriously doubt it.

Narcissistic crisis averted.

But my point is: My head is a mysteriouser jumble than usual.

In case you didn’t notice, my last two blog posts pretty much made sense. I mean, they were actual stories with a beginning, middle, and end. They both kinda had something that resembled a point. Ok, maybe not a point exactly, but a theme. And things like points and coherency and themes and stuff? Those are not usually things that I excel at. At all. And in an advice column that I wrote, I actually gave straight up, good, advice, that wasn’t even sassy at all. It was totally the perfect platform for me to recommend sporking someone in the under balls, yet I took (gulp) the high road and actually made mature and sensible recommendations. It was so uncharacteristically thoughtful and sincere that Facebook and the interwebs were abuzz with rumors that I had died and had my identity stolen by Oprah. Ever since I wrote that blog post about how much she was pissing me off, I’m pretty sure she has been out to get me. So I can totally see her hiring a hit man to take me out. And since her crappy network and all her shows totally suck donkey dong, she might be looking to score with my hip followers. But I am onto her plan and it ain’t gonna see the light of day. I do believe, however, that somehow she is infiltrating my brain waves with her empathy and adviceyness. She probably has a machine that does that kinda stuff. If I had a bajillion dollars like her, I’d totally build all kinds of amazingly badass machines like that. And also open the Hobo and Koala Academy’s that I’ve been dreaming about for years. I wanted to educate the hobos, plus turn them into a mega army. And the koalas’ really need some Planned Parenthood stuff. Sex education. Condoms. Things like that. It’s an epidemic. Seriously. Google it.

The fact that Oprah has time and money to spend building machines to mess with my brain waves yet has no compassion for the Hobo’s or STD-ridden Koala’s really says a lot about her “character”. Or lack thereof.

Everything about me is just a little askew. Always has been. You can ask around. I am sure my family and lifelong friends will agree with this statement. My brain works in mysterious ways, and part of my charm (or so I like to think) is the fact that I ramble on and on and rarely write anything that makes complete sense. Oh sure, there are little sensey morsels embedded here and there is some of the things that I write, but writing an entire post that is completely coherent and fails to mention a hobo, a zombie, a unicorn, or a sporking, is really rare. But it’s happened 3 times this week. And while most people would be worried if they started to think like I usually think, I am frightened when I don’t. When I start to make sense? That’s when I start to worry that I might be losing my mind.

I am trying to Dr. Phil myself here, and it’s not working. And it usually does. I am someone who does plenty of dumb-ass things, yet after -or sometimes even during- the fact, I not only realize what I’m doing, but also exactly why I am doing it. I Dr. Phil myself at least 4 or 5 times a week. And I am really good at it. The only thing I lack are the down home, back woods euphemisms. I’m so totally not good at those and get them wrong every time. You can teach a man to fish, and he will eat some fish. But if you don’t teach him to fish, he will probably just eat vegetables.

I love vegetables, BTW. Especially grilled.

So basically what I have learned is that once again I am opposite of most people, because when most people get out of sorts, they get “crazy’ or “random” or “scattered”, but when I get out of sorts I start to make sense. And while they make medication for the regular out of sorts people to get them back to normal, they don’t make anything for me. So I’m pretty much mega-screwed. All I can do is wait patiently for whatever screw that accidentally got tightened, to get knocked loose again. And no, that is not an invitation to start whacking me on the head. So back off.

10 Responses to “I’m starting to make sense, and it scares the shit outta me.”

LMAOH Oh wow the euphemisims thing sounds just like me!!! I am sorry you are outta sorts. That is never good and exspecially with you cuz your crazy randomness gives me great laughter at perfect times. Hope you get your screw loosened quickly. 🙂

Should I worry that this made perfect sense to me and that like 98.75% of your stuff does (haven’t read the other gems of wisedom yet (it’s a word Google it). I think maybe some of those ‘ladies’ with the Fiji envy have been holding some voodoo style coffee time and have a doll (just sayin, check your hairbrush for missing DNA).

IDK, makes perfect sense to me, although 98.32% of your stuff does (still reading give me time). I think what is going on is some “ladies” with major Fiji are doing some major voodoo stuff with a doll they have set up on a mini-stage using one of your used sporks for a pole (check your hair brush for missing DNA)

Great post, I think I just found my new favorite blog. Love the way you write!!! I am gonna go back and read approximately 127.5% of your previous posts now……….. (and I had no idea your identity was stolen by Oprah! does this mean you get a free subscription to her magazine now?)

I am a new follower (of you, not Oprah), but not in a stalker-ish way with binoculars and night vision goggles or anything like that. Maybe.

Feel free to take a peek at my blog too if you have time. I write humor, and people tell me I’m funny (maybe it’s just the voices in my head, that’s what the doctor told me this last time when he upped my meds again).

Omg LOVE this! Can’t believe I’m just now reading your blog! Can’t wait to read more amazingly awesome blogs! btw…I do believe Oprah would do that, and yes, its sad she doesn’t show concern for the aids stricken Koalas…Lmao

Ha! I thought I was the only one who sneezed out tampons!! My friends look at me like I’m crazy, then I remind them that a) they haven’t had kids yet, and b) my last child (#3) weighed in at 10 lbs, 6 oz, came out sideways, got stuck, and tore that shit up on the way out. The doc had both hands (wrist-deep) up the vajayjay to pull him out. If it wasn’t for the excruciating pain (the epidural wore off/stopped working 18 hours earlier), I would have sworn I was starring in an episode of South Park. Now whenever I sneeze (and inevitably curse immediately), my fiance looks over at me and says “again?” and gets the hell outta my way, quick. Mighta pissed myself, or maybe blew out another tampon. He knows. He was there. He was the one holding my hand through all of it (26 hours), covered in my vomit. Yet somehow he wants another baby…..? Really….? HA!!!See, its a love story. 🙂

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